Of Mayflowers and Markets
by Wai-Jing Waraugh
Summary: Jareth invites Sarah to a Goblish holiday, a spring festival of markets and feasting. Much fun and goblin comedy ensues, with a smattering of romance. Third story in Labyrinth 'holiday' series.
1. Chapter 1

**Of Mayflowers and Markets**

_Yet another Labyrinth holiday-themed story - the third in the series._

_If you are a new reader, you may want to read the two preceding stories in the series - in sequential order: Of Holly and Hobgoblins, and Of Cupids Kings. However, though some details might be based in previous stories, you don't really have to have read them to understand the gist of this. My last two stories were slightly angsty coming-together Jareth/Sarah stories; this one will be more J&S pure good-time fun. Only rated K, for now!_

_To people who have already read the previous two stories, thanks for continuing to read, and for your support. In return, here is another holiday story, as requested. No one can say I'm not generous. Hehe!_

_A special thanks to Athena'sAvatar, for giving me the initial idea. It's not based on any particular holiday, but borrows from a few rather obscure ones, as you will find out._

_Sorry for the clunky title. If anyone has a better one, please suggest away!_

_Please enjoy!_ ~ W.J.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Sarah strolled casually through the park. Or at least, she tried to. As a young couple meandered by in the other direction with a border collie on a leash, she did her best to look like she was just wandering aimlessly about on this beautiful spring day, taking in the clear blue sky and abundance of green foliage around her at her leisure. Only a very keen observer, and even then only one with a knack for the theatrical, would notice that she wasn't actually acting casual at all; rather, she was _acting like_ she was acting casual. Once the couple and their dog were gone, the actress evaporated in the spring sunshine, leaving only a fifteen-year-old girl shooting furtive glances across the park, looking intently around as though she were searching for something. Or, rather, _someone_.

She could've sworn he had told her to meet him here at eleven o'clock, but there was no sign of him, and she had been walking up and down here for ten minutes, trying not to look suspicious. People she knew might be out and about, and she didn't want it to look like she was waiting for a boy…

Which she wasn't, of course. She was, in fact, waiting for _a goblin_.

She stopped, exasperated, by a large clump of hydrangeas that grew beside the path. It was pointless to wander around and around in circles looking for him; he just wasn't here yet. She wondered for the twentieth time that morning if she had been stood up, or if this was his pathetic idea of a joke. _Trust him to be fashionably late._ _Or rather, trust him to leave her hanging like this, completely at his mercy, impatiently awaiting his pleasure…_

"Hello, Sarah. Is it my imagination, or do you seem anxious? You didn't doubt I was coming, did you?"

She jumped, suppressing a yelp of surprise as a voice floated out of nowhere, coming, it seemed, from just over her right shoulder. She turned, looking everywhere for the source of that familiar voice. The hydrangea bush looked back at her with what appeared to be a smug gaze. From among the petals, two eyes peered – eyes with pupils as deeply, intensely blue as the flowers themselves, yet of two differing shades, the left slightly darker than the other, the right the same sunny blue as the sky above. Those two blue-petal eyes drifted off their stems, and gradually a body faded into view around them – a pale slender face with elegant features, a tall lanky frame, a mop of pale blond hair that gleamed like white gold in the radiant sunshine. Suddenly he was there, taking a step forward to stand beside her as he materialized out of the bush behind her. He grinned mischievously down at her, looking very pleased with himself. She frowned back at him.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to admire you as you walked up and down the path. In future, if your powers as an actress ever fade – though I doubt they ever will – you might want to consider a career as a fashion model, one of those ones on the so-called 'cat-walk'. You'd take to it swimmingly, I believe."

She tried to remain pragmatic, but it was difficult. She knew him well enough to know that he could talk himself out of the bottom of an oubliette. Not that he'd ever have to rely on mere talking. Not when he could pull magical stunts like _that_. "You know it annoys me when you trick me like that. I thought you were over playing silly games with me like this."

"Ah, but games are only fun when they are played, and you happen to be my favourite game." When her frown wavered slightly, yet held, he resorted to his strongest tactic. "Don't pout, love. It only makes your lips look even more tempting."

She only responded by deepening her expression, exaggerating it to comedic effect; with a chuckle, he swiftly darted forward and kissed the pretty mouth that looked so in need of cheering. Her defenses melted; the dedication of the actress to her role was forgotten. He effortlessly revealed the smile she had been trying to hide, and she kissed him back quite readily.

He sighed contentedly. "Beautiful weather today, isn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed dreamily, but swiftly recovered herself to add: "and the day will be over soon if you don't get your act together. Exactly where is it you want to take me on this 'date', Jareth?"

"Oh, it's not far away at all," he replied breezily. "If I may accompany you, Milady?" He gallantly offered her his arm.

She waited a few moments, turning the tables on him so that he had to await _her_ for a short time at least, as payback; then she conceded and slipped her arm through his. Walking side by side in their now-customary fashion, they set off together across the park.

"Were you really just late because you wanted to sneak up on me, yet again?" she asked, glancing up at him suspiciously as they walked.

"Well, as you know, dramatic entrances are something of a specialty of mine," he answered matter-of-factly. "However, I _did_ have a bit of business to attend to. There was some minor setting-up that needed my attention."

"What, couldn't decide on an outfit?" she teased him gently. "Although the one that you chose _is_ nice."

And it was – in fact, it was also quite different from his usual attire. It had a definite spring flavour to it; it was lighter and simpler than his usual grand, 'kingly' outfits. The fact that it was simpler, though, didn't make it any less impressive. His white tunic was sleeveless, and laced up at the front with white ribbon. Though his shoulders were bare, he wore silver circlets like bracelets around the tops of his arms. His leggings were a deep shade of blue, a hue that almost perfectly matched his left eye; and on his feet he wore some sort of slippers that ended in curling genie-like toes. All this was new to her; his jewelry, however, she was quite accustomed to. His usual pendant with the gold inlay was around his neck, matching the similar heart-shaped pendant around hers; a tiny silver owl with rhinestone eyes was pinned to his left lapel like a brooch, and its matching twin was worn in his left ear like an earring, a tiny silver feather dangling from it.

His outfit suited the gorgeous backdrop of verdant greenery and springtime-blue sky perfectly. It had almost a hint of 'Sherwood Forest' in it – _like a woodland king, _Sarah thought to herself. "You did tell me to dress in old, white clothes," she said aloud, "but still, you make me feel quite under-dressed." In comparison, she wore an old white sundress with matching white leggings that came down to her knees; she felt very plain standing next to him.

"Not at all," he assured her. "Whatever your attire, you make it the utmost is style and grace. Perhaps the only thing it lacks is a certain amount of _adornment_." So saying, he drew a circle in the air with his finger; the line he traced actually appeared, in the form of a round floral wreath.

She obediently stood still so he could set it upon her hair. "What, no roses this time?" she joked, reaching up to gently touch a white blossom; it felt velvety soft against her fingertip. "They're pretty. What kind of flowers _are_ they?"

"They are the blossoms and stems of the hawthorn bush; also known as mayflower."

"Ah! – the perfect accessory for a spring day, then?"

"Exactly."

"I feel like a ballerina now," she chuckled, wriggling her toes in her white ballet flats, remembering fondly the many times this very spot had been the stage on which she would perform her childhood imaginings, costumed in her mother's old stage outfits in a manner not dissimilar to this.

He gave her a sidelong smile. "Well, then, let's see how well you can dance!"

Without warning, he caught up her hand and spun her around. She laughed, turning with him, her skirt flaring out around her. Instead of merely walking – why do something as boring as that? – they half-walked, half-waltzed across the park, heading towards the little bridge over the stream; the place they thought of affectionately as t_heir spot._ As he tugged at her hand, urging her to keep up with his longer stride, she took a swift step forward and flung herself at him; he caught her up easily and swung her around. Though her arms were encircling him and his supported her safely, she felt a thrill as he spun her and, for a moment, her feet flew out over the railing of the bridge, treading only air; he was literally _sweeping her off her feet_. Then he safely set her down again and, slightly giddy, she followed him across to the other side of the bridge, both of them laughing at the pure fun of the frolic. They walked a little further, following the line of trees that grew densely beside the stream, until they came to a large weeping willow. Jareth beckoned her towards it; he stopped just before it, turned to face her, and gave her a deep, courtly bow.

"Milady," he addressed her in grand tones, sweeping the overhanging branches away like a swaying green curtain, "I give you – _the Goblin Market_."

* * *

"Wow!"

As far as she could see, there were stalls set up in long, snaking rows; a sort of miniature labyrinth made of colourful tent-like structures. A few stray chickens clucked contentedly, pecking busily at invisible seeds on the ground. It looked like a scene from Arabian Nights, except that instead of people managing these stalls, each was overseen by a different goblin – goblins of all shapes and sizes, with horns or tails, or tails _and_ horns; short snouts and long toes, or vice versa. The sounds from the market gradually wafted up to her; she wondered that she hadn't already heard it as they approached the willow tree. Tens of voices called to browsers to sample the wares on offer. Every table in sight was spread with all sorts of exotic-looking produce; but all of them were some type of fruit, from the palest of white, yellow-tinged pears, to the deepest dark purplish-red of plums, and a veritable array of colours in between, not to mention the sizes and shapes. There were some varieties that she had never dreamed of, let alone ever _seen_, in her entire life.

"Is this still in the park, or is this the Labyrinth?" she asked Jareth, who was standing beside her, rather proudly surveying the scene before him. There was no way that this 'fairground', as it were, could possibly fit beneath the willow tree.

"Well, it's somewhere in between, I suppose. It's a similar place to the snow-covered pine forest where I met you last Christmas. A sort of meeting place between the Underground and the human world."

"Do you have these markets often?" Sarah found it quite incredible that such a scene could be stumbled upon beneath a tree she had often played under as a child. If this sort of thing took place once a month like most markets did, surely sooner or later people coming to the park would start to notice it.

"No, not at all. As a matter of fact, it happens only once a year, on the vernal equinox."

"Vernal equinox?"

"Yes. You could say it's a spring festival, of sorts."

"A festival to celebrate what?"

"A combination of things, really. A celebration of bounty, mostly; I suppose if I were to compare it to holidays in your _human_ calendar, it would be something like a cross between Easter and Thanksgiving. Really, though, it is more an excuse for the goblins to have a celebration, and to eat a lot of tasty fruit. As you can see, there are all manner of fruits on offer here; and luckily for you, it is customary to offer fruits to a visiting human guest."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose that's the role I'm playing today?"

"But naturally; and you will do it justice, I'm sure."

They had in this time strolled down a gently sloping knoll and entered the first row of market stalls. Walking amongst the stalls was a bit like stepping off a cliff into the ocean; in a moment they were enveloped by the cacophonous sounds and kaleidoscopic sights of the market. Everywhere they passed, goblins bowed before His Majesty and his pretty guest, offering platters laden with gleaming fruits, like trays of glowing jewels. Though she had traveled from one side of the Labyrinth to the other in her time, Sarah had never seen so many goblins gathered together in one place; on every side, goblins beckoned to her, skittering about her ankles, tugging at the hem of her dress, trying to entice her to come try their wares. It was a bit like having her attention fought over by a pack of very eager, vocal puppies; they tumbled over each other in their effort to gain her notice.

"Come try, fair one! Plump round cherries!"

"Have a tangerine! You won't regret it!"

"Ripe quinces! You've never tasted finer than these!"

"Have a grape! Once you have one, you'll want a bunch!"

"Apricots! – fresh fruit, fit for such a pretty lady!"

"Pomegranates!"

"Mulberries!"

"Bullaces!"

"Damsons!"

"Bilberries!"

"Come try, come try!"

"Pipe down, you miserable worms!"

At Jareth's words, every goblin within earshot – and scores more who weren't – drew back a pace; they instantly fell quiet. The fear-filled awe with which they regarded him was obvious. "Your eagerness in commendable," he continued, "but don't let that enthusiasm cause you to curtail your manners. We have amongst us today a gentle human guest; whilst she condescends to grace us with her venerable presence, you must all treat her with the due respect one as dainty as she deserves."

All the goblins obediently bowed their heads and knelt at her feet; even Jareth gave her a low bow. "We welcome you, Milady," the assembled hordes declared in one rather loud, unruly, raucous voice – a voice that befitted ten-odd-score of goblins.

Sarah blushed at all the fuss and attention, yet it occurred to her that the words the goblins had spoken sounded somewhat recited; even Jareth's speech had sounded similar to an actor's monologue. She had the feeling that however genuine their efforts may be, this was all some sort of elaborate ritual. She felt a bit like an actress stumbling onstage without having read the script. _Well, you're in the drama club, aren't you?_ she reminded herself. _Go ahead and improvise!_

"My heartiest of thanks to you all," she began, gradually gathering confidence. "It gladdens me to be so warmly welcomed, and I am honoured to be in attendance here today."

"Well-met, human guest!" Jareth replied, an un-acted glint of pride and approval in his eye. "We humbly lay at your feet all our kingdom has to offer you."

The performance seemed to be over for the time being at least. The crowd returned to some form of normalcy, or at least as normal as a horde of goblins could be; they weren't quite so boisterous in their efforts. Most of them backed off and returned to their respective stalls, apparently content to let her browse at her own pace.

"How much of that was scripted?" she asked Jareth, wondering if all his 'customary' human guests received such flattery, or whether he had embellished it just for her.

"Well, I knew you would give an impressive performance, despite a lack of preparation on your part," Jareth replied with an ambiguity-imbued twinkle. "I only hoped to somewhat match your considerable talent. So-called 'ad-lib' is another specialty of mine, and one of yours as well, so it would seem; yet such a claim does not stretch to cover my foolish little subjects. I have been rehearsing them all morning, as well as for the previous month or so preceding today; all things considered, they performed it better than previous years. "

"I think I've heard stories like this before," Sarah said, eyeing her surrounding somewhat warily. "Do I need money? Or do I have to give some sort of personal token, a lock of hair or something, in return for what I buy?"

"No, no, the market is absolutely free, and free for all; everyone can try as much as they like without having to buy. That's what distinguishes this from any market in the human realm. Surely you know that old Christmas-time fable, wherein 'visions of sugar-plums' dance over children's heads as they slumber?" He swept his hand about, his gesture taking in every stall around them. "This is the waking version of that dream. There is a never-ending abundance of food here, more than any number of people – or even _goblins_ – could ever eat in eternal years. Every fruit you could ever dream of is here, from cranberries to snozzberries-"

"But there's no such thing as _snozzberries_," Sarah pointed out.

"Don't be so sure," Jareth countered with a sly smile. "After all, these fruits are the sugar-plums that dreamers dream of. Anything and everything possible is on offer here; I don't doubt that there will even be one or two varieties that I haven't heard – or dreamed – of myself. The world itself may grow older, but its childish dreamers remain as imaginative as ever. I'm sure you'll find many interesting things to try."

"Wait – _I'll_ find…? Aren't you coming with me?"

He gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid not. I may be 'fantasy boyfriend' to you, but today I am also the Goblin King. Naturally, I have to oversee the festival, and there are a few things I need to attend to which I must do alone. However, I will meet you later, and I'll tell you then all about what I'm going to do now. And I'm sure you'll have an enjoyable time exploring the stalls on your own. These little minions of mine may be somewhat crude, but they mean well, and though they may be somewhat annoying, they shouldn't bother you overtly."

"They couldn't annoy me half as much as _you_," Sarah replied tartly, a coy smile on her lips.

He chuckled at that. "'Gentle guest,' indeed," he retorted, rolling his eyes but not at all genuinely offended. "I shall call upon you again at the thirteenth hour; until then, milady, I bid you adieu." He took her hand and kissed it gently, bowing low as he did so; then with seeming reluctance, he dropped her hand and turned, striding off into the teeming throng of goblins. Soon he was lost among them; or rather, he appeared to have vanished into what little 'thin air' there was amongst them.

Sarah looked around her, feeling somewhat at a loss. There were so many stalls – _where was she supposed to start?_

She felt a hand tug at the hem of her skirt; she looked down. A diminutive goblin peered nervously up at her from beneath the rim of the large tray he had balanced on his head; it appeared to rest atop his two lop-ears, flattening them against the top of his head and forming an ideal platform for his wares.

"Try a fig, Milady?" he asked in an earnest tone. "They are top quality, the best you'll find anywhere."

Sarah stooped down beside him, to better survey his offering. The split fruits looked juicy and tender, their skins of palest green contrasting with their crimson centres. _Well_, decided Sarah, _it seems as good a place to start as any. Just as well he warned me not to eat before I came. This type of labyrinth, I think I can handle._

"Sure," she said aloud to the little goblin. "I'll try one."

* * *

_**Author's Note:** So ends chapter 1. No Toby this time, though I did manage to write in those ridiculous chickens. And there are lots more goblins. I missed writing for goblins in my Valentines Day fic. They are pure good slow-witted - or do I mean quick? - humourous fun._

_Two literary references in this - Goblin Market is in fact a 19th Century poem by __Christina Rossetti__, though this story is very different from the poem. There is also a Roald Dahl/Willy Wonka allusion. A rather obvious one. What fun!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Might I have a plum please, madam?"

"Certainly, good sir. Help yourself."

Mistress Gretchen's stall was a popular one. Not only were the fruits she offered of the utmost luscious and appetizing variety, all darkly-glowing shades of violet-red; the stall-holder herself was a rather scrumptious specimen. She had very wide, cat-like eyes in a startling shade of green, and her limbs were very long, with skinny wrists and sharp elbows – not so much willowy, she was more twig-like. She had a thick, short thatch of dark hair, which was arrayed in numerous spikes all over her head, like some sort of fuzzy cactus; the illusion made all-the-more appealing by numerous sprigs of white mayflower buds which adorned it here and there, higgledy-piggledy. The whole effect was so sprightly and winsome, many goblins were more than happy to step up to her stall.

The bird-beaked gentleman who had so politely inquired after her wares reached out to take a plump red fruit. He displaced one, which caused a minor avalanche among the rest.

"Oh-! Mind it there, sir!"

Too late, Gretchen's matchstick fingers made a mad clutch at the escaping fruit; instead, a pair of hands almost hidden beneath musty sleeves caught them all up without exception, and diligently replaced them all on the table.

"Well now, that was a fine catch, sir!" Gretchen uttered in genuine admiration. This bird-beaked goblin gentleman certainly hadn't looked like much; she had thought him old and frail, yet he had had the swiftness and dexterity to catch every single piece of fruit before it had fallen and spoiled.

"Bah, it was my own clumsiness to begin with; I was only doing my due to remedy the situation." His eyes twinkled out somewhat mischievously at her from under the wide brim of his hat; she noticed that they were of two slightly different hues. "Thank you for the luscious plum." Tucking it into his tunic, he ambled off amongst the stalls.

Gretchen didn't have long to contemplate this miraculous near-save; a new customer stepped up almost as soon as the previous one had moved on. "Hello there, Drulle," she greeted the squat goblin with two horns poking out of his cap and a pig-like snout, an easy familiarity in her tone of voice. "Doing the rounds again this year?"

Drulle was rather infamous among the springtime festivities. Although certainly not the brightest goblin in the Underground – he was widely known as 'Drulle the Dull', and was often called this to his very face without complaint, so complete was his obliviousness – he was a glutton with an unrivalled capacity for guzzling fruit. His collar and the creases of his clothes already held countless mislaid bits of half-eaten cores, and he was spotted all over with juice. He not so much replied to Gretchen, but gave her a kind of muffled grunt as he munched noisily, something churning visibly between his teeth. Finishing off his previous snack with an audible gulp, he eagerly reached out a hand to take a plump red plum. Gretchen's slender fingers interposed themselves between him and the piece of fruit he had been about to pluck.

"Uh-uh, sweetness, you can't have that one!" she admonished him mildly. "That one's the one on the wreath! You can have any one except that one." Sure enough, he plum he had reached for was in fact attached to a small green wreath of ivy leaves that hung from the roof of the stall. Gretchen produced another fruit and proffered it to him. "Here, have this one – it's one of the ripest and most tender of the lot!" Her words were mostly just a courtesy, since every piece of fruit on the table before her seemed as puce-perfect as the next; however, whether Drulle took much heed of her words was doubtful, as he greedily snatched the plum from her hand, chomping it down and spitting out the stone all within a matter of seconds. He garbled out a juicy-sounding thanks as he trawled off towards the next stall, chewing busily.

Gretchen ruefully shook her head, looking after him with a broad, bemused smile on her keen brown face. "I _do_ love this holiday!" she murmured to herself as she turned attentively to her next set of customers.

* * *

Sarah considered the next lot of stalls before her – this was the third row she had turned down – wondering what she should try next. She had already tried numerous delicacies, the likes of many of which she had never tasted before, and even those that were familiar to her had tasted better than any other she had ever had in her life. At one stall she had sampled various apple slices ranging from tart, crunchy green, to a soft delicate yellow, and a rosy-cheeked variety that was a perfect combination of both, crisp and sweet. She ate apples at home all the time, yet none she had eaten before had ever tasted quite like this. She had also tried creamy pomegranates that tasted less like a bright-red fruit and more like a dark-yellow custard; red grapes that were as rich as wine as they were, almost too sweet to have more than a small bunch; oranges the colour of a summer sunset with barely any bitter white pith, the peel almost falling off in her hands.

She was just trying to decide between tanginellos and buccinoles – whatever those were – when a voice made her turn:

"SA-RAH!"

If she hadn't already recognized the voice, she certainly would've known when she saw the mountain of orange fur waving madly to her, beside whom a diminutive figure with a swaying bushy tail called out: "Greetings, milady! How splendid to meet you on this radiant spring day!"

"Hey! I didn't know you guys were here!" In a few steps Sarah crossed the lawn-covered aisle to the stall that Ludo and Sir Didymus were managing.

"But of course, milady!" the latter told her. "This is one of the most celebrated events on the goblish calendar! It was a stroke of luck that you chanced by at this very moment; I was about to go and explore the stalls myself and change shifts over to Brother Ludo here. I am rather eager to commence my campaign in the Pipencore Tournament."

"Brother find fruit," Ludo added with a broad grin.

"'Pipencore'? What's that?" Sarah asked, intrigued. She had heard the word mentioned at several stalls, but she had no idea what it was about.

"Well, you can certainly take part in the competition yourself, milady. I see you already have a pipencore pouch there."

He indicated towards a small drawstring bag that Sarah had around her waist, fastened with a bit of green string and embroidered all over with bright green thread in a leafy pattern.

"Yeah, I got this off Fiefer the fig-seller," Sarah explained. The little lop-eared goblin had shyly handed it to her, but when she had asked what it was for, he had merely replied that it was a 'pipencore pouch' before he had scurried away, his tray balanced precariously atop his head.

"Well, milady," Sir Didymus began, "When one has entered the Pipencore Tournament, one goes about to as many stores as one can that bear the Wreath of Dionysus." He pointed to a nearby stall that sold plums. A small wreath hung from its cloth shade, made of dark-green ivy leaves and a single dark-red plum. "Such wreaths signify that the fruit at the stall is in possible contention for the Pipencore Tournament. Within such stalls, one piece of fruit among myriad others may actually be a token in disguise. One must have a token in order to compete, and there are only thirteen tokens available. Hopeful competitors must search the stalls, saving the pips and cores from their sampled fruit-"

"Oh, a 'pip-and-core' pouch!" Sarah interjected, suddenly understanding. She had noticed that some of the goblins had also had pouches, into which they had put the leftover seeds and stones from what they ate; she had started doing the same.

"Precisely, milady!" Sir Didymus assented with a nod. "If one finds one of the designated tokens, the saved pip or core will turn into a token inside the pouch. The competitors will be revealed when the timepiece reaches the thirteenth hour."

"Clock say when time up!" Ludo contributed, motioning one large, hairy paw in the direction of a towering clock in the very centre of the market. Its face was similarly ringed by a wreath of ivy leaves, and its hands currently indicated that it was twenty to twelve.

"So that's what you have to do to compete," Sarah murmured thoughtfully. She wondered if whatever this 'mystery business' Jareth was attending to had anything to do with the tournament…

"Oh, is it already that late!" Sir Didymus exclaimed. "If I am to have any chance of competing, I must commence! If you will excuse me milady, Brother Ludo!" He gave Sarah a gracious bow, his tail pointing upwards as his head dipped low; then he scrambled over the top of the table, heading in the direction of the plum stall.

"Bye-bye, Brother!" Ludo called after him.

Sarah watched him go, feeling curious. Once the competitors were named, she wondered what they had to do to compete in the tournament itself…

A finger tapped gently at her elbow. "Sarah have fruit?" Ludo asked, holding one out in his other hand. It nearly filled his palm, which was quite surprising considering his size.

"Of course I will," Sarah said, smiling up at the bashful-behemoth of a goblin. "Are those… cantaloupes?" she asked, recognizing the mottled, green-striped brown skin of the large fruit.

Ludo nodded eagerly. "Rock fruit!" he declared; he raised the fruit and knocked it against the point of one of his great horns, splitting it neatly in two.

"Of course," Sarah said with a grin. "I might've known!" She remembered now that cantaloupe were sometimes also known as 'rock melon', so considering whom Ludo considered to be his greatest 'friends', it seemed like a natural choice for him to be selling these. "I'd love to try some – they look great!" With one paw, Ludo gently nudged a tray of cantaloupe pieces towards her; they had been cut into conveniently-sized slices, and Sarah wondered if the letter knife she had given Sir Didymus last Christmas had been employed for this purpose. She took a slice and bit into the pale-orange flesh, Ludo watching expectantly.

"It's delicious!" she assured him, and it was – soft and sugary-sweet, with a slightly musky flavour. Ludo beamed, looking rather proud.

"Hey Ludo, is Hoggle here too?" Sarah asked. The three of them had helped her out last year when she had gone to the Labyrinth (under much less amicable circumstances), so if Ludo and Sir Didymus were here, she suspected Hoggle might be as well.

Sure enough, Ludo nodded his shaggy head. "Friend Hoggle – there!" he said, pointing over Sarah's shoulder.

"Oh, okay. I'd better go see if I can find him. See you, Ludo – thanks for the, er, 'rock melon!'" Sarah waved and headed off in the direction he had indicated, wondering as she went what fruit Hoggle would be selling.

"Bye-bye, Sarah!" Ludo roared after her. A few goblins had now gathered around the stall, attracted by the noise and the presence of the human guest.

"Friends want rock fruit?" Ludo asked them, deftly cracking another melon over his own head.

* * *

_Author's Note: I know, major-writer-fail. I said I'd try and finish this for the end of spring, and I didn't manage the end of summer. I guess uni work sort of took over my life - and still has a tenacious death-grip on it, in fact - but that really isn't much of an excuse._

_I re-read this before I posted it, and thought, 'is this getting too silly?' Possibly. Then again, maybe it's just because it's an invented holiday. I suppose waiting for a bunny to deliver eggs or for flying reindeer is just as silly._

_Sorry it's so short. As I said, uni work still dominates. On the upside, I'm now writing a story about spring in the actual southern-hemisphere spring. Writing about snow in the middle of summer last year was a challenge._

_Hope you're enjoying it, more to come - at an unspecified time! ~ W.J._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sarah was beginning to wonder if Ludo had been right. She had been walking in the direction he had indicated for a while now, but she had seen no sign of Hoggle. She did, however, see a wonderful array of different fruits. The further she went, the more elaborate – and experimental – they seemed to get. She saw ripe red strawberries, over which an elderly goblin cranked, of all things, a dispenser of black pepper; at another stall, customers toasted skewered grapes sandwiched between tiny squares of bread, then whole thing was gulped down after having smeared it with peanut butter (it was, she realized, an inventive approximation of a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich). She even saw, much to her amusement, a rather young goblin carefully roasting bananas which had been stuffed with marshmallows and chocolate pieces over a small charcoal fire. It made her smile. 'Banana boats', as they had come to be called, happened to be her brother Toby's favourite snack, and had been introduced to them by a 'certain someone' not so long ago… on Valentine's Day*, to be exact…

Still, she didn't see Hoggle anywhere. She wondered if perhaps like Sir Didymus, he had finished selling and was also wandering among the stalls…

Everywhere she looked, goblins smiled cheerfully and beckoned her over to try their wares. No wait, not quite everywhere… at one stall, a weathered face barely peeked over the top of the table, and when the pair of beady eyes came to rest on her, they widened in surprise, and the figure hastily whipped out of sight.

"Hoggle?"

Sarah called out to him and headed in the direction of his stall. His head came back into view, peering somewhat warily up at her.

"Er, um, hi Sarah," he said awkwardly. His voice sounded muffled; a scarf was wound around the lower half of his face, making him look like some sort of diminutive train-robber.

"I've been looking all over for you," Sarah said with a smile. "Sir Didymus and Ludo said you were here. What are you sell-"

"No, don't bother coming closer-!" Hoggle said in a rush, but a second too late. Sarah came to an abrupt halt, and actually took a step back.

"Ugh, what is that _smell_?" She had walked into the odour as though it were an invisible wall standing between her and Hoggle. It was so unexpected, it made her eyes water and her mouth go dry. She swallowed hastily, trying to breathe as little as possible.

Hoggle sighed deeply, making the scarf over his mouth puff out as he exhaled. "This is my punishment for the 'incident' last year – he said he'd make me the 'Prince of Stench', and he wasn't kidding. This year, he's assigned me to sell durians – also known as stink-fruit. As you can see, they smell-"

"-horrible!" Sarah finished for him, clamping her hands over her nose. It still didn't shut out the smell completely, and it truly was horrible – like garbage, moldy cheese, and old unwashed gym-socks, all hurled into a dumpster of rotting fish and left out in the sun.

Hoggle nodded mournfully. "I should've known this would happen. He always saves this as a punishment for people who displease him during the year, and this year, I'm it. No one wants to know you when you're stuck selling stink-fruit, and no one who has had to sell it before me has ever actually sold one." Sarah looked around, and realized that he was right. The passing goblins all looked at Hoggle's stall rather fearfully, and kept as far away from it as possible; as she watched, a goblin with knobbly elbows and a particularly protrudent nose took a step too close, and dashed off in an instant as though he had been jabbed by a pin, wheezing for breath as he dashed away. Hoggle sighed again, and Sarah's heart went out to him. He looked so miserable and lonely.

"Don't be like that, Hoggle. It's not that bad. I-In fact, I'd… like to try one."

This statement was followed by a gasp of disbelief; Sarah looked around, and every goblin within earshot hastily looked away, not daring to meet her gaze. Hoggle stared at her as though she was mad. As the pungent odour wafted towards her again, she began to think that maybe he was right.

"Don't be daft!" he exclaimed from behind his scarf. "There's no way anyone can eat one of these! They smell horrible, and the taste has gotta be…" He stopped. The taste was too repulsive to even contemplate. You might as well ask someone to drink water from the Bog of Eternal Stench.

"No really, I'll try some… I mean, it can't taste any worse than it smells… surely nothing can taste _that_ bad… and surely Jareth wouldn't sell something that tastes…" she trailed off, suddenly feeling uncertain. After all, though most of Jareth's more malicious tendencies had been curbed since he and Sarah had officially started 'dating', one of his favourite pastimes was still torturing Hoggle – or Hodswallop, or Hagglet, or Heddric or whatever other variation of his name took his fancy. But surely he wouldn't go _that_ far…

Either way, Sarah saw the look of intermingled horror and appreciation on Hoggle's face, and knew she couldn't back out now. She took another step forward, keeping her breathing shallow. "If you could pass me a bit…"

The fruits themselves were the shape of an almond and the size of a small grapefruit, with pale green skin that was covered all over with lumpy spines and pale yellow flesh within. Still looking disbelieving, Hoggle lifted a split half of a fruit, taking care to touch it as little as possible, and gingerly scraped away a segment of pithy flesh. Sarah took it from him at arms length, as the piece itself gave off a smell just as pungent as the rest of the stall's abundant supply. She could feel the eyes of the surrounding goblins watching her in a sort of horrified fascination. Trying her best not to breathe through her nose, Sarah edged the piece of durian closer to her mouth, and after a dramatic pause, put it in, chewing it slowly. The goblins around her gave an audible gulp. No one in the history of the market had ever dared to actually _eat_ a stink-fruit. For most goblins, the mere smell was overwhelming; truly, humans must be a curious breed…

The stalls were strangely silent as every goblin watched with bated breath, waiting for the denouncement…

Sarah finished chewing and swallowed. She stared at Hoggle in amazement. In a voice like one who doesn't quite believe their own words, she slowly said: "It's _delicious_…"

"Yeah, I know!" Hoggle wailed, looking ashamed of himself. It took him a few more seconds to comprehend what she had actually said. "I told you not to! Anything that smells _that_ disgusting has got to be…_what?_"

"It's delicious…" Sarah repeated in the same somewhat-awed tone of voice. At her words, a minor outbreak of chaos ensued around her. The goblins were astounded. This wasn't the reaction they had expected at all!

Hoggle looked like he was about to fall over from shock. "_Delicious_?" he repeated incredulously. "It _can't_ taste any good! With a smell like _that_?"

"But it _is_," Sarah insisted to the amazed crowd around her.

"You don't have to lie to be nice…" Hoggle sounded like he couldn't decide if he were flattered or insulted.

"I'm not! I really mean it! It's one of the best-tasting things I've ever eaten!" And she meant it. Despite its horrible smell, the flesh of the fruit was pleasantly soft and had a creamy, rich flavour, almost like vanilla or almonds, and yet completely different; she couldn't quite define it. One thing was certain – it tasted _incredible_, almost as good as it smelt bad. Almost.

A hubbub of voices broke out around them; all the other goblins started talking at once, giving voice to their amazement and admiration. They had all been avoiding the stink-fruit stall at the market for years; to think they had been missing out on something _this_ good…

"I recommend everyone try it," Sarah told the exuberant crowd about her. "Ignore the smell; the taste is well worth it! In fact," Sarah added in an aside to Hoggle, "if you see Sir Didymus around, tell him to try it. I'm sure he'll like it!" Since he could live in the Bog of Eternal Stench, Sarah was sure Didymus could handle the smell of the durian, and of course would enjoy the taste.

"Sure…" Hoggle still looked stunned. He nodded his head automatically. The action dislodged the scarf from over his face, making him instantly splutter and come back to himself. "You really mean it actually tastes…?"

"Here, let me try it!" a goblin with a broad face and curly, sheep-like horns piped up. "If the fair human guest can handle it…" He snatch up a piece, delicately pinched his nose with one hand, and deposited the durian in his mouth with the other; he was soon reaching for another piece, smacking his lips contentedly.

All over the place, goblins were daring each other to try some; one of them had had a stroke of genius and was passing around clothes pegs to clamp onto noses. The braver goblins showed off by eating without any protection at all, chewing happily even as their eyes watered. One particularly courageous goblin was even wearing an empty husk on his head as a hat; though his fellows gave him a wide berth, he seemed very proud of his 'badge of honour'. As word spread, a steady crowd surged towards Hoggle's stall. Soon Hoggle was slicing and distributing fruit at a cracking pace. The 'stink fruit' was an unprecedented – and wholly unpredicted – success.

"Hey Hoggle, have you tried any fruit today?" Sarah asked, skirting the crowd of sampling goblins to stand at her friend's elbow. Well, _near_ his elbow – she stood just out of range of the durian's pervading smell.

"Nope," Hoggle replied, hastily tugging his scarf back into place. "When you're managing the stink-fruit stall, nobody wants to know you." As he said this, calls came for more fruit; he split another husk, making the crowd step back a pace as the smell emanated from it, then push forward again to share it round. "I probably won't get a chance now," Hoggle added, "what with the sudden demand and all; I'll be working right up til the end of the thirteenth hour." In the middle of the square, the large clock showed that it was half-past-twelve.

"I'll go and get you something for you if you like," Sarah offered. "Any preference?"

"No, not really," Hoggle replied distractedly.

"I'll come back with something, then. Won't be a minute."

Hoggle grunted, not looking up. Sarah sauntered away, looking back at the crowd thronging around him with a smile on her face. In an instant, Hoggle's stall had gone from the least-popular in the entire market to most-popular. And though he kept his gruff manner as he worked diligently away, serving the still-reeking fruit to the enthusiastic crowd, he seemed pleased. She could see a hint of a smile around the sides of his scarf. She felt like she'd done a very good deed – although she wasn't sure what Jareth would think. He would have to come up with a new punishment for next year…

She remembered the durian's stench with a shudder, and wondered what worse-smelling horror he would manage to invent next.

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_Author's Note: Yeah, I know, it's taken me way too long to come up with another chapter. I put this story on hiatus for a bit while I worked on it - I lost my direction for a bit. I seem to have regained it now, though. I'll definitely have it completed this year - I just have to fit it in around my school work. Then I might actually get around to the Hallowe'en story I've had in mind for ages._

_I like to think of this story as slightly educational. Although I've never tried durians myself, they are indeed very real - and apparently smell really horrible!_

_Sorry this chapter is so short - and that it took so long!_

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_*See the previous story in the series, 'Of Cupids and Kings', for details._


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